


take the lot and teach them all (to stop being freakish)

by artsyspikedhair



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Abusive Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, BAMF Sorting Hat, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Homophobic Language, Horcruxes, Hufflepuff Harry Potter, Hufflepuff Neville Longbottom, Hufflepuff Ron Weasley, Legilimency, Mind Manipulation, Nonbinary Character, Occlumency, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Severus Snape Bashing, Tom Riddle's Diary, Touch Averse Harry, Well-Meaning Albus Dumbledore, transphobic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-02 05:26:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15789855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsyspikedhair/pseuds/artsyspikedhair
Summary: Harry knew the only way to avoid punishment would be to bargain. "Please, please Piers, don't tell Dudley's parents what you saw! Please! You can beat me up if you want, or I could pay you - I have money back at the house, I promise! Please...""Relax, freak, I don't want your money, and I've already beaten you up often enough that it isn't fun anymore." The frequency of the beatings Harry could attest to, thanks to Dudley's creation of the game 'Harry Hunting'. "But... there is something you could do for me..."





	1. relax, freak

In retrospect, Harry should've known the day was too good to last. 

The day in question had been Dudley Dursley's birthday, a day that historically had never gone well for Harry. Harry had been woken up obscenely early by his aunt to help cook the food for dear Duddikins, and was promptly sent to his cupboard after cooking, although his aunt had generously allowed him a strip of bacon before shooing him away. Harry then attempted to fall back asleep while half-listening to his cousin's yearly tantrum regarding the number of presents he'd received. Harry expected to spend the rest of the day locked inside, with only the spiders and pipes hanging above him for company. 

The rude introduction to the day, however, was broken by Harry's uncle, who, rather uncharacteristically, responded poorly to the idea of 'the boy' being left home alone. "Imagine how it would look if the house burnt down, Pet! A young boy found dead locked in a cupboard! We should at least send him to the neighbor's. How about that Figg woman, she seemed unable to give the boy ideas?" 

Ms. Figg was in the hospital with a broken leg. After thinking over all the options, Petunia Dursley decided the annoyance of bringing her nephew along with her son and his friend was better than the off-chance of creating a negative impression. Petunia cared very much about what the neighbors thought, especially since she was typically the woman spreading the gossip around. So, after promising that he "wouldn't do anything freakish or upsetting to ruin Dudley's birthday in any way," Harry Potter was, for the first time in his short life, allowed to visit the zoo. 

Harry had even been allowed some ice cream, a cheap lemon lolly! He was thrilled to see all the animals he'd only read about in books before, and not even Dudley and Piers comparing him to the mere-cats could ruin his good mood. 

The day was too good to last, and Harry's luck ran out when the group visited the reptile house. Harry sneaked away from Dudley and his parents, who were attempting to scare the monitor lizard into moving. Harry looked around and found a snake, and, somehow, despite his promise not to do anything freakish, Harry found himself talking to the snake. A boy talking to a snake! The entire concept was the definition of freakish! And, worst of all, Piers Polkiss had seen him. 

Harry knew the only way to avoid punishment would be to bargain. "Please, please Piers, don't tell Dudley's parents what you saw! Please! You can beat me up if you want, or I could pay you - I have money back at the house, I promise! Please..." 

"Relax, freak, I don't want your money, and I've already beaten you up often enough that it isn't fun anymore." The frequency of the beatings Harry could attest to, thanks to Dudley's creation of the game 'Harry Hunting'. "But... there is something you could do for me..." 

Harry readily agreed, the thought of a month in his cupboard without food, living off a water bottle a week scaring him into agreeing to anything. He'd sell his soul, if only that would prevent his aunt from discovering he broke the rules. 

It was after the zoo, back at Privet Drive where Dudley had invited more of his friends over to play with his new gadgets and eat the cake Harry had cooked, that Piers pounced. He somehow cornered Harry, who was cleaning Dudley's second bedroom, and locked the door. 

"Show me your willy"

"Wha?" Whatever Harry was expecting, that certainly was not it. 

"Unless you want your aunt to know you talk to snakes, you crazy freak." 

Harry did as he was told, taking off his pants and allowing Piers to touch him. He didn't understand why Piers wanted /this/ of all things. Normally people avoided touching Harry - even when his aunt or uncle decided to physically punish him it was usually hitting him with a spoon or briefcase or something. Nobody wanted the freak to contaminate them, not in the Dursley household. 

Throughout the month of June, whenever Piers found the chance - in the bathroom at school, while Harry was doing his outside chores, on the walk home from school - he would force Harry to do these things to him. Piers not only wanted access to Harry's body - he wanted Harry to jerk him off, he wanted worse, more grotesque things Harry had only ever seen in the magazine stash under Uncle Vernon's bed. 

Harry despised it, and, on the last day of school, refused to let Piers have his way. Piers then came over to #4 Privet Drive, wailing at the Dursley parents about how Harry had waved sticks at him and spoke in tongues. Piers knew the way the Dursley's felt about magic because Dudley always came to his house to play fantasy games or even celebrate Halloween. 

Harry's fear back in the month had been correct. Harry was trapped in his dingy, overheated cupboard for the month of July. He passed out multiple times from heat exhaustion, although the punishment was lessened slightly by Harry's ability to pick the lock at night to steal food. Still, Harry never regretted any decision more than the one he had made on Dudley's birthday. 

Unbeknownst to him, Harry had been receiving letters during that month in exile. Or, rather, letters were being sent to him, addressed to his cupboard. The Dursley family ignored the letters until they became incapable of being ignored, at which point they removed Harry from his cupboard and went on a crazed trip across the country. 

Harry's eleventh birthday was the oddest day of the young boy's life. He was a wizard! His parents weren't drunken wastrels, they were war heroes! Giants and goblins and magic existed, and Harry James Potter was, finally, leaving the Dursley's! 

Harry soon discovered, however, that cruel boys existed in every society. At the robe shop, he met a boy that did not remind him of Dudley, but rather, reminded him of Piers. The boy's utter lack of sympathy for Harry's parents being dead, his talk of bullying his father, all made Harry shrink into himself, overwhelmed by memories and incapable of conversing. Harry's sense of wariness followed him the rest of his trip, and he flinched, hard, when Hagrid patted him on the back. 

Harry was still in a magic society now, though, and he was going to make his own decisions. He told Hagrid, rather firmly, that he'd prefer a toad to an owl, and had picked out a desert rain frog. He named the frog Diddidums, a joke on his aunt's absurd pet names for his cousin. Hagrid appreciated the naming, at least, and Harry got the sense Hagrid would very much wish to take Harry with him rather than send him back to his relatives for one last month. 

The month passed agonizingly slowly, moving only slightly faster due to Harry's night-time habit of picking the lock of his cupboard to sneak upstairs where his school-things were stored alongside Dudley's. His relatives hated that Harry was not going to be available as a source of free labor anymore, and put Harry to work writing the essay that would get Dudley into Smeltings. 

But miraculously, time did indeed pass, and Harry did indeed find himself at Platform 9 3/4's. The family of redheads that helped him were very overwhelming, and far too tactile for Harry's comfort. He allowed the youngest to sit with him, though, and soon found he'd made his first friend. 

Only for robeshop boy to come along and ruin everything. "You'll soon find that some wizards are better than others, and I can help you find the right sort." The right sort were likely not suburban freaks who let themselves be shagged - raped- Harry was not going to think about that Harry was not going to think about that Harry was not 

"Mate? Harry? You okay?" Ron was worried. He tried tapping Harry to get his attention, but that only made the boy curl up into a ball. Draco had long since left, disappointed in Harry's choices. Only when Ron stood to leave - to change into his robes- did Harry respond in any way other than rapid breathing and flinching. 

"Sorry -I- Sorry. Are we - did I miss anything?" Harry was unfocused - nothing felt real - but this redhead boy - Ron, Ron Weasley - was not going to hurt him - touch him- no, Ron was safe - er- safer. 

"Almost there, mate. I'm going to go change into my robes." 

Harry was not in any state to undress, so he put his robes on over his Muggle clothing. As he did, a bushy-haired girl came into the compartment. 

"Have you seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one?" 

"Only toad here is Diddidums, an' he's mine." Harry pointed to the magic terrarium Hagrid had bought him as a birthday gift, where his companion buried himself in dirt. 

Hagrid was outside to escort the first years when they exited the train. "No more'n four ter a boat!" 

Ron, the bushy-haired girl (Hermione), Harry, and Neville found themselves sharing the boat. Harry sat as close to the edge as possible, thankful he was next to Hermione and not one of the boys. The four discussed the sorting. Ron thought they'd fight a troll. Hermione thought it might involve a personality test. Neville was too busy mourning his lost toad to talk much. 

Professor McGonagall reminded Harry eerily of his aunt. She had a no-nonsense voice that brought back memories of the life he'd left behind. Harry thought about the houses instead. Gryffindor, where the brave dwell at heart. Slytherin, the house of cunning, ambition, and tradition. Ravenclaw, the house for those who loved knowledge. Hufflepuff, for loyal hard-workers or anyone who would otherwise not fit. Harry was unsure where he'd be placed even as he walked up to the hat. 

"oh. oh, you poor lad... you've had to be resourceful, certainly, but you would never survive the Slytherin head of house." 

"who? please let me stay, I can't go back, Hufflepuff said she'd take the lot and teach them all the same - please" 

"nono, of course you can stay. Slytherin's head, professor Snape, he knew your parents and, much like your aunt, will resent you because of them. But that's irrelevant. You certainly have a great mind in here, but well, you need to be somewhere without expectations. Your hunch was correct. You, dear boy, will excel in HUFFLEPUFF!" 

Harry took the hat off his head, already dreading the rush of noise that would come - that had come between every child's sorting as houses applauded - but, mercifully, no applause came. Only silence as Harry descended, choosing a seat towards the back of the room. 

Harry's surprise came along with shock as Ron, too, was sorted into Hufflepuff. All of Ron's family had been in Gryffindor except Percy, the sole Slytherin and Prefect. Harry ignored the announcements and ate his fill, attempting to take in the enormity of the room while still trying desperately to avoid physical contact. Harry eventually stole a glance at the teacher's table, where, as the hat said, Snape was glaring at him. Snape's eyes felt like they were boring into his head, like they wanted to dissect him, like the stares Piers would give back when Harry was only hunted for beatings rather than - 

"Harry? My name's Cedric. I'm a third year here. In third year students are able to choose electives, while you first years have all your classes pre-selected for you..." Cedric could see that Harry was very obviously not present in the moment as the Hufflepuffs made their way to the dorm, and, as someone who'd dealt with mental health issues himself, he knew that distractions were the best coping method he had. 

Harry heard the end of Cedric's sentence. Cedric's voice was calm and soothing, and Harry smiled as Ron asked the older boy what electives there were. Hogwarts was going to be Harry's new home, and nothing, not even memories from his old one, was going to ruin it.


	2. first day surprises

Albus Dumbledore was not a man who found himself surprised very often. Whether that was due to his age of almost a hundred seventy years or his temperament (the man had been a three-way Hatstall between Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw, and he often fulfilled his Ravenclaw tendencies in Muggle libraries and bookshops, at least until his position as Supreme Mugwump made escaping into Muggle society an unrealistic pastime), simply very little left the old man flabbergasted. His discussion with the Sorting Hat late that September evening, however, was an exception. 

"Albus..." the Hat hissed. Dumbledore, who'd been finishing filling out Professor Quirrell's change of position paperwork, looked up and raised an eyebrow at the Hat. "Albus, the Boy-Who-Lived almost died this summer." 

"What?! How?! Did the Death Eaters-" Albus' old mind raced wildly, and the Hat inwardly sighed. Foolish men believing too strongly in the bonds of love and friendship had created the monsters known as Lord Voldemort and Professor Snape, respectively, and Sorting simply hated how both befouled the magic of his beloved school. 

"No, you foolish man. Not wizards. The Muggle family, if I can even call them such, locked Harry Potter in a small utility closet for the majority of the months of July and August. Harry appeared to use the cramped cupboard as a bedroom, for goodness sake, and he felt lucky his uncle had been /thoughtful/ enough to allow the boy one bottle of water a week! The only reason your wards have not fallen is because Harry fears what's outside those walls more than he does the people within them." As the Hat spoke, the words dug into Dumbledore like a sharp corner poking him. Hadn't Minerva warned him about the family, the "worst sort of Muggles," she'd said? Albus at least held on to one misguided notion. 

"Had Petunia warned Harry about Death Eaters, then?" 

The Hat let out a sarcastic chuckle. "Oh no, far from it! Harry James Potter didn't even know magic existed until your deputy, Minerva, sent Hagrid to fetch him when you'd asked him to retrieve the You-Know-What from the Flamel's Vault. No, Harry was afraid of a far more mundane danger, one, you, oh Albus Dumbledore of all your mighty wisdom, seem eager to ignore and neglect throughout your tenure as Professor and Headmaster." 

Albus suddenly felt every bit his age, and wondered why he kept the Hat in his office again in the first place. "What? What is it that I've neglected?" 

The Hat took a vindictive sort of glee from inducing such guilt in the Headmaster - his time spent within Harry's mind had left him with little sympathy for the utter optimistic blissful tripe the man called fulfilling his guardianship duties. "Only the fact that, unlike what your Muggle teaching guides and never-ending patience for the Weasley Twins might have you thinking, children are not innocent. Children are not inherently good, old man, and the damage one boy caused poor Harry is worse than the years of malnutrition and abuse he suffers from behind your blood wards. Harry is terrified of children his own age, and for good reason, reason I am enchanted to be unable to divulge. I sorted him into Hufflepuff because that is the house where he will be treated with the delicacy and respect he'll need to learn how to trust again. Gryffindor would have left him a suicidal wreck after the childhood you condemned him to, and I wouldn't wish Severus on a healthy, well-adjusted Potter, let alone the one we received tonight. Now, what you do with what we've discussed is your own matter, but I for one need to have a long-overdue chat with the centaurs about deliberately telling the Ravenclaws nonsense fortunes as jokes. Good night, Headmaster." And, with a pop that indicated the Apparition wards had ruptured - the same way they do whenever a House-Elf needs entry to one of the Houses - the Hat left Albus Dumbledore alone with his thoughts, paperwork, and the dozen-odd portraits of former Headmasters that still lined the office. 

While Dumbledore and the Hat chatted behind the gargoyle-protected entrance, deep in the bowels of the castle certain professors were exchanging Galleons, having bet within the yearly gambling ring on the Houses the Pureblood first-years would be entering. Professor Vector, the only person to have bet that both the Potter child and the Longbottom child would be Hufflepuffs, found themself ten Galleons richer, while McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick all paid up on having believed the newest Weasley was a shoo-in (Minerva and Snape both saw Ron in red and gold, Flitwick saw Ron donning Slytherin attire). The only Professors who left the room as wealthy as they had entering were Madam Hooch, who, same as every year, supplied her home-brewed Firewhiskey as she watched the proceedings, and Hagrid, who spent his time laughing as his favorite teachers raked in coins and steadily became drunker and drunker until he passed out and required a house elf to transport him back to his hut. 

Hufflepuff was nothing like either Ron or Harry had expected. Harry had not really had any expectations, only a constant fear within him that at any point those around him be able to see it on him that he wasn't like them, wasn't the famous hero they'd heard about, that they could tell he was fundamentally broken. His fears settled down, however, as the night and following morning progressed with no incidents other than some odd stares when Harry asked a somewhat stupid question. 

The stupid question would run through Ernie Macmillian's stressed mind as he attempted to find comfort in the not-yet-well-used mattress. 

The question had been simple enough. "Do we still get beds when we're in trouble?" Ron had laughed at the absurdity, only to pause as he took in Harry's expression. 

"Course, mate. Nobody would take away your bed as punishment, that'd be like withholding food or something." Ron's answer was only half thought out because he'd been taking in the scenery of the Hufflepuff dorms. The place was underground and warmly lit by candles hung in patterns reminiscent of chandeliers. 

"They don't take away food here either..." Harry muttered to himself. He left the dorm to scan the bookshelves in the common-room. Harry was absolutely in love with this place, and fell asleep on a couch with "Magical Theory For the Muggleborn" still open on his lap. Cedric, the kind second year from dinner, verbally woke him the next day. 

Their Head of House, Professor Sprout, held a House Meeting in the common room before breakfast. Hufflepuffs stuck together, and House points were rewarded for good behavior or academics. The Professor would meet with each student halfway through the term to discuss their academic and social progress, and Prefects would check the first, second, and third year dormitories once a week for cleanliness. Then she opened the floor for questions. Most of the questions were about how to avoid getting lost, or asking if such-and-such a rumor was true. 

Harry found some aspects of Hogwarts to be unnerving. The portraits watched students as they walked from class to class, and Harry felt their painted eyes watching him. Harry also noticed students whispering as they passed him, and the attention became so distracting he had to ask Ron to explain the rules of Quidditch to him at least three times. 

The classes themselves though, were, for lack of a better adjective, magical. Teenagers levitating their books, professors having spent vacations being hunted (or, as Ernie would mock, "h-h-h-hunt-t-t-t-ted", despite Quirrell's stutter not being nearly that severe) by vampires and inferni, plants that changed color based on the visual spectrum of the closest pollinator, the first day was the opposite of every other first day of school Harry had ever attended. 

Harry's enthusiasm was not shared by everyone, not even in the house known for hard work. He'd been the target of some good natured ribbing after he had attempted to start researching for his Defense essay while eating lunch. Ernie and Neville both insisted lunch was for eating, not studying, and Neville succeeded in convincing Harry to drop the research in favor of discussing the care and keeping of their toads. Ron's brother, Percy, had stopped by to check on the youngest of the Weasley cohort, had awarded Harry two points to Hufflepuff for "maintaining a responsible outlook towards your education." Ron insisted Percy had only wanted to try out his new powers to award points as Prefect, but Harry wouldn't stop smiling all day. 

Yes, the first day at Hogwarts was special. And the next day, where Harry would attend Transfiguration, Potions, and Astronomy was likely to be just as wonderful. Neville was terrified of Potions, which made little sense to Harry and Ron because the boy was a natural talent in Herbology, but when Neville pointed out the Professor, the one the Sorting Hat had warned Harry away from, suddenly his apprehension was a lot more understandble.


	3. transfiguration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strict teacher who knew Harry's parents makes her first appearance.

The second day of school happened to contain two inter-House classes: Transfiguration was a joint Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw class and Potions was a joint Hufflepuff-Slytherin class. Ron bemoaned their luck. "Every single year Dumbledore puts the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins together for Potions! Every single year my brothers complained and my mum wrote to Dumbledore about the unwise decision. But only this year, the year I'm in Hufflepuff, does Dumbledore change it so Snape's Slytherins are sharing our Potions class! He's a nightmare, honestly. Even Percy, who is himself a Slytherin, complains about Snape's biases to his own house." 

Harry became more and more anxious as Ron complained - far too often at the Dursley's when he'd mutter a complaint to himself (or a snake in the garden), thinking he was alone, he'd be proven wrong and punished. "Well, we don't have Potions right now, we've got Transfiguration, so let's just follow the crowd so we're not late." Ron sighed, but both boys sped up their pace. 

Transfiguration was in a brightly lit classroom on the fourth floor, by a rather loud suit of armor that often fell over its own limbs. Harry decided to sit up front while Ron hid in the back. The lights flashed and a bell rang, signaling the start of class, but the professor was nowhere to be found. 

Harry turned to the Ravenclaw sitting next to him, wondering if he should ask her what the policy is when a teacher misses class, but the girl seemed enraptured in her textbook. Harry averted his eyes, and noticed a cat stalking about the front of the classroom. Harry remembered Ernie had a pet cat, maybe it was his? No, Ernie's cat was gray, while this cat was orange and had odd markings on it. Maybe a stray? 

The cat pounced on top of the desk and let out a loud yowl. Then, oddly, its limbs began lengthening, the front paws turning into hands, claws blunting themselves, hair on the head lengthening and fading to brown, markings on the face protruding and glinting, stature becoming bipedal... Within the course of a painful-looking five minutes, the cat had transformed (transfigured?) into their professor. 

"Welcome," said the Scottish woman, "to Beginner's Transfiguration!" Students applauded the grand entrance, although Harry kept his shoulders hunched and did not join the applause (he hated the sound of clapping). 

"My name is Professor McGonagall, and in this class you will learn the art of transfiguring one object into another. The show I just put on for you all is not something you will be able to learn how to do until your sixth or seventh year here, and even then, becoming an Animagnus, a person who can become an animal, is a painful, difficult process. But it is fun to see the wonder on your faces as you see for yourself the possibilities of Transfiguration! Now," she looked down and picked up a piece of parchment. "Time for role call." 

Harry looked around the room as student's responded to their names. He somewhat regretted sitting up front, as his appearance caught the teacher's attention, but his eyesight meant if he had sat farther back he'd be at risk of not being able to take notes, which was not a risk he was willing to take so early in the year. 

After role call, Professor McGonagall went over the syllabus and rules. She did not accept late work unless it was accompanied by a note from one's Head of House or Madam Pomfrey. She also took House Points for being late, although that rule would not go into effect for first years until November. Anyone caught cheating, attempting to sabotage someone else's work, or 'engaging in acts of destruction' would earn a detention. 

When the class was over, Ron walked up to Harry, and Professor McGonagall acknowledged them both. "Mr. Weasley, I hope you do not follow in your twin brothers' footsteps. They've kept us from the House Cup numerous years. I'd hate for you to wreck Hufflepuff's chances as well." 

Ron blushed pink, nodding. "yes, ma'am. " he responded, and then rushed out of the room, forgetting he had been waiting for Harry to pack his books into his knapsack. 

"And Mr. Potter," McGonagall said warmly, before gently placing her hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry tensed, unsure how to react or what was wanted of him, memories of Piers holding him in position - think about something else think textbook think Transfiguration is the art of materially changing the atomic structure of- 

"I did not want to single you out in front of the class, but I wanted you to know I knew your parents." 

Harry's eyes widened, fear and excitement battling themselves within him. "y-you did? What were they like? I mean, was my mom or dad good at transfiguration or-?" 

"Your father, James, was a prodigy at Transfiguration, and your mother was quite good as well, although Lily was always more interested in Charms and Arithmancy. I'm not- Don't think I'm setting high expectations because of your parents, I am well aware you grew up in the Muggle world, but if you'd ever like to talk, they were in my House so I may have some stories you couldn't get from your aunt." 

Harry just stared at her for a moment, mouthing the names. James and Lily. James and Lily Potter... Only then did the second half of her sentence hit him - "well-aware [he] grew up in the Muggle world," How much did she know? Did she know his aunt never told him stories? Did she know his aunt personally? Could she report back on him, let Petunia know if he tried for good grades or ate more than he's worth? Harry stuttered out a "thank you, I'd love to know more, thank you, really, Professor!" before running down all five flights of stairs to the Dungeon as a way to work off his anxiety, fears and hopes screaming through his mind. 

He entered the Potions classroom within seconds of the bell, the only seat left being one up front next to the Slytherin from the robe shop. Harry's heart sunk into his stomach. His guard would have to stay up. His guard should have never been down, not even in Hogwarts would he escape horrible people with their manipulations and unclear intentions. The memory of the sorting hat not placing him in slytherin because of this professor was front in his mind as he waited, terrified, for this new class to begin.


	4. severe drama ensues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry James Potter apparently made an enemy before even arriving at Hogwarts.

The Sorting Hat's words ran through Harry's mind as he waited for the Professor to appear. "Professor Snape, he knew your parents and, much like your aunt, will resent you because of them. " was what the Hat had said. Harry was terrified. He was as far away from the 'right sort of wizard' boy as space allowed, leaning away from him. He could still feel the shadow of McGonagall's hand on him, a sensation that reminded him of other hands despite his attempts to stay present. Harry was blinking back tears when the Professor finally let himself out of the supply closet he had been hiding in. 

Right-sort boy raised his hand and began speaking. "Professor, Harry Potter over here" pointed his thumb at Harry, "was late to class." Harry hunched further in on himself, thinking maybe if he made himself look pitiful enough the teacher would ignore him. 

But Harry James Potter apparently made an enemy before even arriving at Hogwarts. "Thank you, Draco. Potter!" The man yelled, and Harry dared to look up a tiny bit, eyes focused on the mouth speaking rather than any glares or blows that might be coming his way. Looking at adults' faces is respectful. Respectful is good, respectful prevents hurt. 

"Potter! Answer when I talk to you, boy!" Severus Snape saw that mop of wild dark hair and saw how the boy avoided eye contact. Potter was hiding something, and Snape was not going to tolerate disrespect in his classroom. He was an adult now, he could make the insolent brat suffer for all those years of hexes and misery. Ignoring the fact that Harry was not James, Snape took perverse glee in hitting his fist on the desk and watching that sharp Potter chin flinch, those green eyes looking up - up, for Snape hated the way Lily had seen herself as his equal, as someone who could criticize his choices, as someone who could make her own. 

"Y-yes sir, sorry sir." Harry actually moved his stool backwards, soundlessly, via accidental magic. He didn't want to be hit, not in front of room full of potential Dudleys or Piers's that might take their teacher's lead. Harry only survived on Privet Drive because Dudley was afraid of being violent in front of his parents. Vernon and Petunia would see violence as dangerous, not because they respected Harry, but because the neighbors would never believe their tales about Harry being a ruthless hooligan if their own son committed those same offenses. At Hogwarts, there were no parents, and Harry had no idea what Professors condoned or what they wanted (was McGonagall using his parents as a lure to get him alone so she could touch him? Would anyone believe him if so? What did this Draco want, other than for Harry to be in trouble? When they said that Houses were like family, did that mean Harry could only go to Sprout if a Hufflepuff attacked him -Hufflepuffs attacking their own would look bad for the family, after all- or did the rules not apply to famous freakish sextoys like him?) 

"I do not tolerate tardiness in my classroom, Mr. Potter. Five points from -" Snape had to look at the tie to remember not to say Gryffindor. "Hufflepuff. Now, I shall ensure that nobody else has wasted my time or decided not to attend." And, with that, he read off the role call, skipping Potter and sneering when he hit Weasley. After ensuring students were all in class, Snape recited his yearly speech, satisfied at the fear on the young faces as he did so. 

Harry had begun going over his self-defense techniques in his head after Snape's fear tactics had reminded him he may still be a target here. First, try to look as weak as possible. Most bullies want a fight - appearing defenseless means if they have any empathy at all, they might think twice before attacking. The majority of 'Harry Hunting' games had started because Harry couldn't curb his sharp tongue. If his play to their sympathies card fails, protect the head and torso above all else - except if they are attacking for the purposes Piers' had, in which case nothing will help. Harry's thoughts continued in this vein, meaning his attention to his actual surroundings was nonexistent. 

"Potter!" Snape began his formative assessment by starting with his favorite victim. Damned brat had been daydreaming, not a note to be seen! 

And panic - "yes sir?" 

" What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” 

Silence. Harry's mind blanked. Then he remembered a small thing, and spoke, figured it was better than nothing. "Asphodel is a type of lily, sir. T-that's all I know, I'm sorry, sir." 

"Tut tut, it appears fame isn't everything, now is it?" Draco snorted at the remark, causing Harry to startle at yet another reminder of that boy's similarity to Piers. "How about another question, simpler this time. What's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" 

Harry knew his answer immediately. "I don't know, sir!" 

Snape couldn't hide his sneer. "Pathetic!" he spat at Harry. 

Harry shrank back in on himself. "'m sorry, sir." he muttered, unused to this much attention from a teacher, even negative attention. 

Snape seemed to realize the other students still existed then, and began his attack on Longbottom. He later went after Goyle, to stem the cries of 'bias!' on the first day. They were not going to begin brewing that day, as the hour passed by too quickly, with not a single soul answering Snape's queries correctly.


	5. Minerva's perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry James Potter was nothing like Minerva had expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying out the same first few days time frame from another perspective before potentially moving forward to the canonical scenes we know and love.

Minerva McGonagall was not a gambling woman. She was one of the few professors who abstained from the yearly betting ring, the sole exception being her bet that the newest Weasley would be one of hers. After the five previous Weasley's, she'd been at an 80% success rate, so the Galleon seemed certain to be hers. Normally, however, with regular sized families, she preferred to be surprised, to watch distantly which traits the Sorting Hat would grab on to in each child. Minerva prided herself on being fair, or as unbiased as she could possibly be. She knew the Headmaster tended to favor his old House, and disliked the advantage it gave her lions. That Slytherin had won the House Cup for the past seven years only meant Severus was even more biased than Albus, but Minerva was not going to step on the scales regardless of what those men did. The House Cup was meant to be a friendly rivalry, not a battle of who could influence children more. 

Harry James Potter was nothing like Minerva had expected. Admittedly, the summer had been a busy time for Minerva, so she was not as observant as she might otherwise have been. Her thoughts before the sorting had surrounded the Muggleborn girl, Hermione Granger. Hermione had been friendless before Hogwarts, so Minerva felt, as a professor, that she might attempt to connect the girl to her peers. This meddling became immensely easier when Granger became a Gryffindor, and so McGonagall watched the rest of the sorting without much interest, until "Potter, Harry". 

His hair was even curlier and more disastrously tangled as James' had been, and Minerva thought she may have seen some lice in it before she placed the Sorting Hat on the boy's head. Harry was short, and Minerva tried to remember if Lily had been that thin her first year, but the old witch's memory could not bring up images of Lily Potter any younger than third year (when McGonagall had first became close to her because Lily needed Transfiguration tutoring). She watched with a mixture of worry and excitement on her face, noticing how Harry had on extremely baggy Muggle trousers under his robes. Minerva was so caught up in watching she only heard a few of the Hat's words. "... was correct. You, dear boy, will excel in HUFFLEPUFF!" 

Desperately trying to remember which first year came after Potter, McGonagall took the Hat from Harry. Her slow memory was not noticeable to anyone other than herself, thank Merlin. "Perkins, Sally-Anne" became a Ravenclaw, and on the Sorting went. She smiled when the newest Weasley's turn came, hearing some murmurs of "Harry'll need a friend" before another surprise "Your loyalty would do well in... HUFFLEPUFF!" was announced. So she'd be a Galleon poorer. My, she thought, how fast these friendships formed! Ah, to be young again!

Minerva spent much of the first night and first class day preoccupied with her own new class of children. She did see Potter at meals, talking closely with Weasley and Frank and Alice's son - Norman? No, Neville. But mostly her thoughts were on her lesson plans for the higher years, how to stop the fourteen through seventeen year olds from skipping their first day with complaints of how they already know the rules. Not until her first class with the new Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws did she get another close look at her old friends' son. 

She watched in her cat form as he took his seat up front next to a Ravenclaw. (Inter-House mixing, she thought. Albus would approve.) He appeared shy, or at least hesitant, a clear contrast to his loud friend Ron, who'd taken a seat in the back and was wondering aloud at Neville what the rules were about late Professors. And, as she stalked from the back on up to the front again, those green eyes took notice. Minerva could not dwell on who the Potter child had become quite yet though, as she had a class to impress. 

And impress she did! Although, thinking of Harry, he hadn't applauded alongside the others. She caught a small smile on his ducked head though, and remembered that the Hufflepuff stereotype of being scared of one's shadow did occasionally possess a grain of truth to it. Nevertheless, all her new students listened with rapt attention as she explained her expectations for the year. 

Once class was over, Minerva was blessed with the opportunity to talk to the Hufflepuff duo. Thinking of the letter she'd penned about the twins just that morning, she addressed Ron first. "Mr. Weasley, I hope you do not follow in your twin brothers' footsteps. They've kept us from the House Cup numerous years. I'd hate for you to wreck Hufflepuff's chances as well." 

Ron smiled nervously, answered, and fled the room, leaving Harry behind to put his books together. Minerva waited until he was finished before bringing up her offer. She'd planned to offer the same deal to Neville, but he'd already left. Perhaps she'd owl him? 

"And Mr. Potter," she said warmly, before gently placing her hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry bit his lip, a flash of undecipherable emotion speeding across his face like lightning. Minerva ignored what she could not understand. "I did not want to single you out in front of the class, but I wanted you to know I knew your parents." 

That had caught Harry's attention, and Minerva fought back a laugh as he bombarded her with questions. His curiosity and enthusiasm reminded her so much of his parents. 

"Your father, James, was a prodigy at Transfiguration, and your mother was quite good as well, although Lily was always more interested in Charms and Arithmancy." Harry appeared to light up at the remark, and Minerva noticed him mouthing his parents' names after she spoken. Could he really not have known? What if he thought she was expecting him to do amazing because his father had? That was likely the cause of his mixed emotions, she decided. 

"I'm not- Don't think I'm setting high expectations because of your parents," Minerva continued. "I am well aware you grew up in the Muggle world, but if you'd ever like to talk, they were in my House so I may have some stories you couldn't get from your aunt." She released him, not realizing she had still been making physical contact. Harry immediately moved his body away from hers and appeared to almost - shudder? shiver? some reaction like that, before an obviously feigned smile reappeared on his face as he thanked her and nearly sprinted out of the room. 

Had she scared him? Should she have waited or owled him instead of holding him after class? Class! That's right, she had Slytherin fifth year students next. Minerva sighed, all thoughts of analyzing Harry or doubting her actions disappearing as she wrote out the different sections of the ordinary wizarding level test on the chalkboard. She was only a professor, after all.


	6. lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations ensue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance for my pretentious inability to write dialogue. I could hold my autism up as an excuse, but I feel guilty. So, yes, I know humans beings to not use the words I've had them use in ordinary conversation, and I'm putting this note here as a disclaimer. If you all have constructive criticism on any other aspect of the work, however, they would be much appreciated either in the comment or in the bookmarks (I check what y'all have to say, notes and tags. Thank you for liking this enough to bookmark it in the first place, by the way!)

Lunch simply could not come fast enough. The moment the lights flashed Harry was out of the room, speeding up the stairs as fast as possible without colliding with other students. He only paused once he was in the brighter lit hall of the first floor. There Harry waited for his friends. 

"He's a real git, Neville, honestly! If Malfoy's father wasn't on the board of governors, I'd write a complaint, but-" Ron and Neville were walking up the stairs at a more leisurely pace, Slytherin students passing in front of them. 

Neville spotted him first. "Oh, hi Harry! How're you doing? Professor Snape really lit into you, didn't he?" 

Harry began walking with the other two to the Great Hall, thinking he'd sneak back into the common room instead of going to lunch. He had no desire to be in another room with a hateful angry Snape. "Yeah, but I mean, I was late, sorta. McGonagall wanted to talk to me. Apparently she knew my parents, James and Lily Potter." Harry said their names again just to try them out. He finally had names for the imaginary figures that have haunted him his whole life. 

"If it's her fault you were late, she should've been the one getting yelled at, not you!" Ron came to Harry's defense now that the class was over - in the room, he'd been shocked into silence, plus his mum had ingrained into him not to question or talk back to teachers. Still, the sight of the older man's rage as he spat insults at Harry had made Ron's stomach churn with guilt. If he was a Gryffindor he'd've spoken up. 

"McGonagall would never allow Snape to call her pathetic." Neville chimed in, adding that "I think the man gets his jollies from hurting kids who can't defend themselves, anyway." 

Ron snickered. "Gets his jollies?" That sounded... well, not exactly proper. 

"It's what my grandma says, lay off! Y'know, gets his jollies, makes him happy?" Neville looked at Ron and Harry imploringly, but Harry had just spotted the entrance to the Hufflepuff commons, and Ron shook his head, still laughing quietly. 

"'m gonna go take a nap. Tired. Being insulted's a lotta work, y'know?" Neville nodded and smiled while Ron burst into another bout of uncontrollable gasps of laughter. 

Neville waved him off. "See ya Harry! We've got Magical Theory at 2!" 

Harry walked significantly slower now that his friends were gone. To be honest, tired had been an understatement. He'd basically had two flashbacks in a row, and the hyper-vigilance caused by the physical contact took tremendous energy. He had almost gotten used to not searching every corner in case Piers wanted to use him, but the flashbacks and dramatic incident with Snape made his instincts come back all the stronger, and he felt drained. He constantly monitored where everyone was, even his friends, and he just thanked whoever's out there that Ron and Neville weren't touchy-feely people. Heaving himself up the last stair, Harry walked on autopilot until he reached his bed and collapsed. At least he had a bed here, instead of the old sleeping bag he had back in his cupboard. With those thoughts swirling, Harry finally drifted into a dreamless (and therefore nightmare-free) slumber. 

Little did he know, Ron normally was a very touchy-feely person, but Ron could just sense the discomfort that came off of Harry whenever Harry'd bumped someone accidentally and knew purposely initiating tactile contact might lose him his friend. Ron would never be able to explain how he knew this, but if he'd thought hard about it, his suspicions were the Sorting Hat implanted the knowledge of Harry's psyche into Ron's as a protective measure. 

Indeed, during lunch Ron and Neville sat side by side with their legs touching and not once was either boy afraid the way Harry would've been. The lunch that day was Muggle pizza along with salads and deli sandwiches. Ron tucked in, and ended up the laughingstock of the table once Ernie noticed he'd downed an entire pizza before reaching for the serving of salad. Hannah Abbott told the boys to stop it, making fun of eating habits isn't nice, and they acquiesced. Ron could hear Lee Jordan, who'd left the Gryffindor table to obtain a textbook he let an older girl borrow, snickering even as his own classmates quieted, and knew soon the twins would be making jokes about Ron becoming so plump he might be mistaken for a rooster during hunting season alongside their typical jabs at their youngest bro being a badger. 

Minerva was already penning her missive to Neville about his parents. She'd hate to cause any more embarrassment, discomfort, or, as she realized halfway through her lecture may have been what spooked Harry, tardy entrances to class on the first week. She also brought up her discussion with Potter to Professor Sprout, as she's his Head of House. 

"Pomona, I talked to Mr. Potter today. I let him know that I knew his parents, and he seemed surprised to even hear their names. Do you think I was too early? I wanted to give Neville the same offer, considering Augusta never knew Alice all that well." 

"Young Harry seems to be almost scared of any reminders of his fame. He's taken to the youngest Weasley boy, along with Neville, but seems to let them do most of the talking. I reminded him gently about how all first years will meet with me within the month, and the boy almost jumped out of his skin! He just startles easily, you may have caught him off-guard. Neville seems more well-adjusted, although he also grew up in our world, of course - I doubt he'd turn down your offer." 

"Oh no, Harry didn't turn down my offer, not at all. He seemed excited to know even just the basic facts of their favorite subjects, but I just worry that my first impression as being no-nonsense might've scared him. He sat up in the front row, but not once did Potter make eye contact. I may be a Gryffindor, but I want to walk the line between being authoritative yet not intimidating." 

"Potter?" Snape drawled, entering the conversation without either participant's approval. "Only the third day back and you lot are already fawning over Potter? The arrogant whelp had the audacity to waltz into class late the first day, and hadn't done his homework!" 

"I'll have you know I was the cause of Mr. Potter's tardiness, Severus, so your disapproval should be towards me for not writing a pass, not towards an innocent boy." 

Pomona, seeing the pure rage for the first time addressed to one of her 'Puffs, snapped at the younger man. "Perhaps, Severus, you may be having recall issues? /James/ Potter was what one may call arrogant. And, whatever your distaste for him, the crimes of the father should not taint the son. You've known the student one day, so I'd appreciate if you aimed your vitriol elsewhere, perhaps towards elder students used to your abusive tendencies. And how have you assigned homework /before/ your first class?" 

"Er- well-" As Snape stuttered an attempted justification for his inept teaching habits, Professor Quirrell, who'd been listening in on the entire conversation, took a black notebook out from within his robes, and began taking notes on the information he'd gleaned. 


	7. things we know about Harry Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a list of things we know about Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and the 'Chosen One'

This chapter takes place within Quirrel's black book. The book is small, bound in leather made of thestral skin, and on the back cover contains a gold inked calligraphy signature of one "T. M. Riddle"

Imagine it is after lunch, and Quirrel has abandoned the book in his office in order to go teach thirteen year olds how to face their worst fears. It lays, unassuming, on his desk. If one were to break into Quirinus' highly warded office, a feat few at Hogwarts other than the ghosts might achieve, and rife through the contents of the book, the only writing in it would be, in the same handwriting only with black ink, this: 

a list of things we know about Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and the 'Chosen One' 

(Tom, do not make this page fade the way you've done the others. I'll need to know my enemy in order to kill my enemy, and I cannot risk Occlumency while under Dumbledore's roof.) 

why can't we just set Lissa or Fluffy on him again and then not have to commit permanent ink into my soul-husk? 

because setting Lissa loose would also petrify/kill those loyal to me and- wait, why am i arguing with you? you're sixteen, and contain only a third of a soul. i'm older now, and if we want world domination, we need to kill the boy. Then maybe we can feed Dumbles to Fluffy, alright? 

'right. The above ink then disappears forever, so in reality what one would read when they break into Quirinus' room would be: 

a list of things we know about Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and the 'Chosen One'   


he's eleven years old, as shown by the Hogwarts registry as well as the Gringotts documents. He is not any wizard's attempt at time travel or a Horcrux, other than potentially mine due to the backlash of magic that Halloween night. His existence began on July 31st, 1981, definitively. 

Some form of ritual magic -either his or his parents' - disembodied me and tangled my magical core to the point where I could not connect to my Horcruxes again until, ten fucking years later, I found a willing shell to possess. 

(I'm so glad you didn't abandon me intentionally. After you stopped sending me memories, I got so bored I planned to give up ruling Wizardkind and instead make basilisk-human hybrids with Lissa) 

why was i such a grotesque sixteen year old? ANYWAY, HP is genetically the son of Lily Evans and James Potter, ascertained by Gringotts records. He has no other fathers or mothers, as both parties were virgins when they made him, also ascertained by Gobl. recs 

(except James n Sirius fucked while at Hogwarts, I know becuz I watched 'em. Black was a kinky harpy... should've been a death eater) 

... as both parties were heterosexually virgins when they made him, also ascertained by G. recs. 

Dumbledore placed him somewhere not in the British Wizarding World - ascertained by McG. and P.S 

(however Goblin records said he's monolingual, so must've been somewhere one can get by on only English) thank you Tom, v. helpful. 

Hufflepuff. Sorting took four minutes and his height made it so that he was not touching the floor when sorted. (possibly preventing H's magic from impacting Sorty?) 

Fascinated by my day one lecture on Vampires and inferni-notes mentioned zombies? find out what a zombie is, ensure he will not use them against me. (sounds American) 

Does not approve of insulting other's speech difficulties, despite having none himself. (witnessed in hall after class, macmillian mocked my vessel's stutter n HP took offense) 

Does not require much sustenance. Eats little, skipped lunch 9/3 

Values children: R. Weasley (might extend to other Weasleys? Keep eye out for Gryffindor Weasleys, they may be more problematic r. stone), N. Longbottom (thanks for letting me torture his parents btw) (you're a part of me, of course you can join in the fun, besides, youth allows for more emotions than my current soul can contain. They sound so sweet when their wills snap) 

Starts hw early (Saw at lunch) 

May be developing relationships w/ McG and Pomona. Snape's still loyally opposed to HP

(and bitter. And hot for HP because HP reminds S of LE. Possibly consider letting him rape more children next war? Pedophiles stay on your side for far longer than the regulars) (Never thought of that, thank you for Legilmencing him, next time get more than just the sexual intel) (I've been sixteen for fifty years! Besides, his prick is the only thing that gets through his shields, Master Occlumens he is) Keep this permanent. 

Excited to learn about parents. Might not've known their names bfor Hgwrts? 

Takes blame even when teacher's at fault (seen via McG/Snape argument) Possibly abused? (if so, I can lure him on to our side) (I have more manipulating experience. Allow me) (Abused children don't trust adults, /Quirrel/ You used to know that) (alright, if power-hungry, use horcrux to lure him into enjoying the slaughter of mudbloods with me. if not, use his responses to ensure he'll never be believed. 

Wears glasses. 


	8. theory

Harry typically woke up with his back aching, an ache that could sometimes be lessened by stretching but was always a low thrum of pain in the background of his sensory awareness. Harry also typically slept on a worn sleeping bag with no mattress or pillow. Therefore when Harry woke up to find himself in absolutely no pain whatsoever, he breathed with contentment. His body felt successfully rested for the first time, and he wondered if this was Heaven. 

Then the knowledge of 'you're at Hogwarts, you might have classes, get up' entered his brain. Harry sighed, dragged the blankets off his body, and grabbed his knapsack with his schedule in it. He then returned his glasses and wristwatch to their respectable positions on his being, and checked the time. He'd woken up with ten minutes before Magical Theory began. The Professor was some Professor Vector, who also taught Arithmancy to the upper years. Harry remembered Cedric telling him about the Professor. They were something called a non-binded-dairy? Harry thought about whether cow versions of centaurs existed as he moved his person up to the sixth floor. The classroom was supposed to be in the left-side corridor past the library... 

"Harry! Over here!" Neville called to his friend. Neville was standing outside the classroom, waiting for the Professor to finish talking to an older student before he entered the room. Harry ran on over, and the older student - the brown eyed Quidditch freak, friends with the Slytherin Weasley, Oliver something, Harry remembered - exited. 

Soon the rest of the straggling Hufflepuff first years found their way to the class room. Magical Theory was one class that segregated the houses, which Harry was appreciative for. Harry and Neville both sat in the second row, by the door. 

Bell rang, lights flashed, and the completely (as far as Harry could tell) human professor began their opening speech. "Welcome, Hufflepuffs, to Magical Theory. I'm Professor Vector, and I'll be your Professor for the first and second year Magical Theory courses. After second year, you may find yourselves students of mine again only if you apply for the elective of Arithmancy, a math-based magic that links objects to the intent of the caster. We'll be discussing more of the different subjects at Hogwarts later in the year. But first, role call!" 

Unlike in other classes, the Professor did not orally read out each student's name and wait for a reply. Instead, the Professor waved their wand around the class in a geometric pattern, and the names of students appeared in floating letters on their desks. Ron, who taken the seat beside Neville, uttered "How?" in astonishment. Harry whispered that he thought it was an example of Arithmancy.

"Alright, it is a pleasure to meet everyone! Now, in my class I prefer to use people's first names rather than last, as I know the struggle of mistakenly being called "Mr." or "Ms." by an unaware stranger due to my appearance." Students looked at the bright pink robes, the long beard on a round chin, broad shoulders combined with what were certainly breasts, and wondered which the Professor was. Vector recognized the scrutiny they were subjecting themself to, and allowed the students a beat to conclude their assumptions before continuing. "As you may have noticed, I dress myself in ways that send mixed signals about whether I'm a witch or wizard. The truth is, I am neither. I am a third gender called a wix. The Muggles refer to people like me as nonbinary or genderqueer. Queer is a derogatory slur and I never want to hear it come out of any one of your mouths." 

"However! We are not here to discuss Muggle slurs or gender, although if you have questions my office is open and accessible by the Common Room floos. We are here to discuss what makes you all witches or wizards or wixen - in short, what makes a Hogwarts student able to go to Hogwarts? What causes magic? Can anybody tell me?" 

Hannah Abbott raised her hand. "Magic is caused by a genetic mutation that causes the human or creature body to create excessive energy. The energy is not necessary to physical functioning and so it can be converted into matter or other forms of energy." 

"Hannah is correct! However creatures have different physical requirements than humans, and therefore some, such as goblins, can only use magic as energy, while others, like Veela, can only convert their powers to matter. This is why magical peoples, such as humans, Veela, or vampires, can subsist for long periods of time without food - the magic is converted by the liver into glycogen - while goblins cannot. 

The lesson continued, with Professor Vector explaining the differences between animal magic and plant magic, both of which were caused by a similar mutation in the same genetic strand. The different variations of the mutagen explain why wizards, witches, and wixen are chosen by different wands - the wood can sense, using its innate magic, the genetic compatibility between plant and human, and decides, based on the history of each species, what magic user is most likely to value and nourish their magic in ways that will benefit the plant species. All the information was a lot to take in at once, and Harry wrote four pages worth of notes, certain he would need to find access to Muggle textbooks (maybe steal one of Dudley's biology textbooks over the summer?) if he was ever going to make sense of it all. 

Neville found the subject fascinating as well, and he was eager to learn more about plant magic and wandlore. He and Harry both spent their afternoon roaming the library, only crossing paths with a solitary Gryffindor with eight books in her hands, while Ron found Percy in a nearby corridor and coerced the Prefect into neglecting his duties in favor of a round of chess.


	9. Time and fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passed faster at Hogwarts. Hermione would say it was because Harry had fun there. Harry didn't exactly agree.

Harry, Ron, and Neville befriended the best first year student in Hogwarts by accident. Or, well, Neville had an accident, and Harry befriended Hermione while they attempted to help Neville. The day had been long, but the magical theory class absolutely enthralled Harry. Neville wanted to find links between Theory and Herbology, because they both dealt with life, and then would try to find ways to apply both in order to stop him from earning a Troll in Potions. Madam Pince showed them the Plant-life section and warned them they'd be hung by their toenails if any harm befell her books. 

Harry found a Biology textbook that looked promising: Magical Bio for Muggle Morons. The title gave him pause, but Harry figured even if it was bigoted it might still explain what glycogen or inter-cellular membranes were. He began the introduction. Neville, unaware Harry was distracted by reading, attempted to use the floating footstool to grab "Fungi Fundamentals". He aimed the wrong direction and fell, barreling into the bookcase. 

Hermione, who'd been rereading "Hogwarts, A History," rushed over when she heard the crash. "Are you alright? Oh, Neville, I remember you from the train! Do you need help standing?" 

Harry set down his textbook just as Neville uttered out "Sore. Sorry. Ju'sa'minute." Neville sounded like Dudley when Dudley accidentally bit his tongue. Harry can only remember one reason why someone might sound that slow and slurry. 

"Shit, I think he's concussed! Neville, Neville, who am I?" Harry asked frantically as Neville wobbly made his way into a standing position. 

"yer- you're- boy-wh'-lived" Neville tried walking and Hermione steadied him as he almost fell over. 

Hermione talked to herself. "Concussion, right, we need to keep him awake and - oh god - Harry, do you know where the nurse's office is?" 

"Yeah, I do. Neville, Neville, do you know where you are?" 

"Greenhouses? I dunno, so bright..." 

And on it went. After Harry and Hermione dropped Neville off into the capable hands of Madam Pomfrey, they began talking to each other, rather than just to Neville at one another. Hermione had grown up in the Muggle world, just like Harry, only she had loving parents who worked as dentists. She thought she might make friends here but so far the other Gryffindors ignored her, the other girls all interested in painting nails and gossipy romantic novels. 

Time passed faster at Hogwarts. Hermione would say it was because Harry had fun there. Harry didn't exactly agree. He still panicked in Potions class, although he hid his fear better than Neville, whose hands shook so often he'd drop ingredients accidentally. Harry liked his new friends a lot, although Ron and Hermione hated each other. The names Ron called Hermione brought Harry into flashbacks of being young and curious and Dudley ruining things... So Harry ran and hid and spent quite a lot of time in Professor Sprout's office. She met with him whenever he needed to escape, perfectly happy to allow Harry to drone on about magic theory and charms class! Harry almost felt like he had a mother, the way she'd try to comfort him when he complained about Ron and Hermione arguing. He didn't trust her with the reasons why he hated hearing them argue, or why he solidified the first time Hermione hugged him. His magic thought she was a threat and dealt with it by using too much force which ended up throwing her into the wall of the dungeons. 

No, Harry trusted nobody with his trauma. He met with McGonagall occasionally and struggled through her kind touches, her misguided attempts at comfort after she'd cried telling him how Lily chewed on the end of her quill and James used to wear levitating shoes on Fridays, "to celebrate the weekend!" He loved hearing about his parents, the two people who had to love him, who would have understood Harry's unease in a way neither Professor could. If Harry had had his parents he might not have been uneasy in McGonagall's presence after all... He angrily blinked. No use dwelling on what if's, not when homework remains unwritten. 

But time passed regardless of Harry's emotional struggles, and soon, as though it had tiptoed up behind him, Halloween arrived. 


	10. morning of hallows eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: graphic flashback, homophobic and transphobic slur usage, also not Draco Malfoy friendly

"Your parents must be rolling in their graves, freak! Having to see their freak son take it up the arse like a faggot? Are you a faggot? Or one of those shemale freaks?" Piers had his knee centered on Harry's back, freeing his hands for other deeds: one pulled Harry's trousers down, not caring that the friction caused rugburn on Harry's sensitive bits, while the other hand yanked Harry's hair to see the length. "Your hair's long enough, and those shirts of Dudley's always look like dresses. I bet you are one of those heshes." Piers then snaked his arm around Harry's prominent hipbone, grabbing and rubbing at Harry's genitals. Harry lay still and silent on the bedroom floor, trying to ignore the pain, trying to ignore the better sensations as well, trying to suppress the urge to kick Piers off of him... 

Harry woke up suddenly. His pants were wet, likely from the nightmare/memory he'd just had. Harry's roommates were all still asleep, as Harry never woke up screaming or anything dramatic like that. He knew the night was going to be bad because yesterday Professor McGonagall had told him - warned him, really, that Halloween was the day his parents died. Harry let himself cry in the dark of the dormitory, allowed the tears he wasn't allowed to shed at the time fall, before tiptoeing to the toilet to clean himself. 

Harry struggled to fall back asleep, but eventually succeeded. Only, once he did, he dreamt of a green light and a cruel laugh and a voice screaming. His parents' death - was the voice Voldemort? Or his mother? Father? Harry eventually fell into a dreamless state, only to be shaken awake by his least favorite roommate - Ernie. 

Harry walked to breakfast in a grumpy mood, forgetting his robes and wearing his Dudley castoffs out of habit. He didn't even own a belt, only a piece of rope he stole from the shed. The rope kept his trousers up. 

Harry was blessed with amazing friends - instead of asking him what was wrong or trying to cheer him up, Neville just discussed gravity defying trees with Ron and ignored Harry's disturbing comments ("If the trees defy gravity, do their roots suffocate from lack of dirt?" "No." "That'd be cool - suicidal trees choking themselves to death until they fall on some unsuspecting Muggle.") Harry ate the most unhealthy food he could find (why did the school serve brownies with breakfast?), hoping to cover his exhaustion with a sugar rush.

Unfortunately, Defense was the first class of the day. Harry walked in already with a headache because his body hated him. Defense Against the Dark Arts was usually a brain-straining class due to having to decipher Quirrel's stutter, but that day Harry felt like the internal equivalent of the time Ripper chased him out of a tree and clawed Harry's to the point where his eyelids swelled. 

"T-t-the m-m-most com-m-mon r-r-reason t-t-the D-D-Dar-r-rk L-l-lord g-g-g-gained p-p-power with werewol-l-lves was... Anyone know? M-m-mr. P-p-potter?" 

Harry looked up at the Professor, distantly aware a question had been asked but unable to concentrate on anything but his pain and his dreams from the night before. Harry got the sense Quirrel might have been trying to read his mind but he was too tired to care. Finally, he muttered "I dunno sir. Sorry." 

"Shame, y-y-you u-u-usu-u-al-l-l-ly kn-n-n-now th-th-the an-n-s-s-swer-r." 

"Ron raised his hand, but then forgot to wait to be called on his anger. "Today's the day his parents died, Professor, so lay off! The answer is werewolves weren't allowed to own property or be legally employed under Ministry regulations and so You-Know-Who only had to promise them food and shelter and they'd already fall at his feet. People denied basic necessities are more willing to overthrow the government." 

"Do n-n-not u-u-use a t-t-ton-ne with me, M-m-mr. W-Weas-s-sley! F-f-five points f-f-from-m-m Huf-f-f-f-fl-lep-p-puff" 

And on class went. Harry almost considered going to Madam Pomfrey, but the hospital wing was too far away from his next class. Potions. 

Harry was walking too slowly. He soon lost sight of Neville and Ron. He was on the second floor when Malfoy, also on his way to Potions, cornered him. 

"Harry Potter, fancy seeing you here. Why're you so glum?" 

"Malfoy. You know why, just go." Harry's exhaustion only allowed a small fraction of his usual panic to overtake him, but that panic grew when Malfoy grinned. Behind him, out stepped his two friends. 

"No, I don't think so. Crabbe! Goyle!" The two large boys lifted Harry by his arms, and began taking him somewhere that was certainly not Potions. 

Harry couldn't speak. Malfoy and the two others led him to an empty classroom. Nonono not again no fuck- 

"Silencio. Now, I am going to talk, and you, Potty, will listen. Today is the day your precious parents threw themselves in front of a murderer for you, did you know that?" Malfoy walked closer, his accomplices still holding Harry up, now against a wall. He grabbed Harry's tie and pulled. Harry felt the familiar sensation of being strangled, but he didn't fight it. Uncle Vernon strangled him many times. He was not going to die. Malfoy pulled the tie so hard it came off of Harry. 

"You lost my parents their chief financier. You let Albus Dumbledore rise to power. You are nothing more than a weak," Malfoy pulled Harry's trousers down. Harry was not going to take it this time. He kicked wildly, but missed Malfoy, who continued monopolizing words. "Pathetic, cowardly-" Harry kicked Goyle in the ribcage, shocking both boys into dropping him. Harry yanked his trousers put, and fought with everything he had to get Malfoy away from him. Not to hurt him, just away. 

He basically tackled the Slytherin, who was entirely unprepared for a fight not done with magical means. Harry somersaulted away from him, kicked him again for good measure, and sprinted. 

Gotta hide gotta hide gotta hide I'm not going to let anyone touch me again not again never again no why was I right why does everyone only want me for raping or hurting everything hurts okay cupboard cupboard means no food but also no hurt anymore cupboard cupboard cupboard! Harry's thought process continued along these lines until Hogwarts provided him with a cupboard. He curled into a fetal position and allowed the fear and grief to take over. 

Malfoy recovered fairly quickly, and waltzed into Potions. Professor Snape never took points from him or assigned him detention because Snape was Malfoy's godfather. Crabbe and Goyle received detention, but that did not concern Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Hermione and Ron become friends for real. Also, the Troll!


	11. Troll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A action scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never written a decent action scene in my life. Also this chapter switches perspectives a ton because Harry is asleep the entire time. Grammatical liberties have been taken to portray Troll's thoughts accurately, given Troll is an animal of instinct.

The Hufflepuffs left Potions class in high spirits - Snape had, in a rare act of generosity, actually given them points as a reward for Hannah and Ernie's perfectly brewed Pepper-Up Potion! Not only that, but the Halloween Feast was in a few hours, and so they had the time after lunch off to go find costumes. 

Ron, Ernie, and Justin Finch-Fletchley were all in the Hufflepuff dorms, trying to come up with costume ideas, when Neville burst in. He was dressed as a pot, with his hair transfigured into a growing sunflower. There were also leaves growing out of his arms. 

"Nice costume, mate!" Ron proclaimed, slapping Neville on the back. 

"Thanks! Hey, have any of you seen Harry? I haven't seen him since Defense, and he wasn't in Potions..." 

"Nope, haven't seen him." Justin was not paying much attention, busy trying to charm his robes into armor. 

"Have you checked the library? He's usually there." Ernie was still stumped on costume ideas. 

Neville and Ron shared a look. Harry did spend a lot of time in the library, but never at the expense of missing class, not even Potions, and given the date... Ron grabbed his wand from his trunk, shoving it into the pocket in his robes. 

Ron felt guilty. Ever since flying class, when Draco Malfoy - "bullying git," Ron'd refer to him as - had stolen Neville's Remembrall and challenged Harry to a flying match, Ron had been somewhat less caring of a friend to Harry. He just felt so jealous, seeing Harry mount a broom for the first time with such ease! Harry had gotten detention, but Ron was certain if he'd pulled a stunt like that he'd have to face his mum's Howler. Being muggle-raised was a blessing, Ron mused as he and Neville walked to check the library. Ron hadn't said anything to Harry about these thoughts, but he had been more distant. More irritable, more prone to starting fights with that Muggleborn Granger girl. She was a know-it-all, always answering every teacher's question, always needing to be the first to read a new book or new copy of the Prophet. Hoarding knowledge the way she did just - just wasn't fair! As was the way she talked down to him, just because his essays were badly written. Ron was just bad at words, he knew the things if he did them with his hands... 

The two Hufflepuffs checked the aisles Harry usually browsed, then wandered further into the stacks, finding themselves separated and distracted by the books. Ron, after remembering his appetite a few hours later, cast a Tempus. "Neville!" he mock-whispered, earning a glare from Madam Pince. "The Feast has started already!" Ron exited the library as fast as possible, eager for food and the possibility that he could sneak over to the Gryffindor table. He missed his brothers. 

Neville exited as well, but along the way he ran into Professor Sprout, who noticed his costume. The two talked plants on their way to the Great Hall. 

The quest to find Harry was forgotten entirely. Ron sat between Fred and George, who found his lack of a costume to be a riot. They had charmed birds to fly around their heads and took bristles from the broom shed and stuck them all over their robes, being nests. "Because we get up to nest-y business" Fred remarked. Ron spent a happy hour shoveling candy into his gullet. Neville, over at Hufflepuff, was indulging in sweets, as well as in discussion with Professor Sprout, whom he had a small crush on. Ron and Neville were both selfish friends, (or so they'd berate themselves as being, after all comes to pass) as it was Hermione who, after psyching herself up to be insulted, asked. "Hey, Weasley. No, not you twins, first-year! Ron! Do you know where your friend Harry is? He'd said he'd sit with me at the feast but he's not here and it's okay if he just forgot but..." Ron just made a vague I-don't-know noise, his mouth at work trying to chew gummy worms that wriggled the way live ones do.

No, not until Professor Quirrel came running in, shouting about a troll, was Harry remembered. Ron ran over to Hufflepuff, prepared to go to the dorms, only for Hermione to follow him. Neville was entirely unsure what to do, talking to himself as Professor Sprout abandoned him to join the other professors in searching the castle. All three kids said the same general thing: "Shit! Harry doesn't know about the troll!" 

The rest of Hufflepuff was exiting the Great Hall, and Ron had to pull Neville away to keep from following them straight to the dorm. The three kids instead exited but turned the opposite direction. Hermione attempted to cast a "point me Harry Potter" spell, but her wand physically began dragging her to Harry's location, causing Ron to quickly "Finite" the spell. 

"Are you crazy? That sort of conspicuous movement will lead the troll straight to us! And to Harry!" Ron then began going over everything he knew Harry used to comfort himself... 

One memory stuck out to him. Ernie and Justin had been complaining about the size of the dorms, after Justin had put his robes on top of Ernie's bed by accident. Harry, angry and half-asleep, had murmured quietly, "This place is bigger than my fucking cupboard back home was, ungrateful little..." before realizing his thoughts were being verbalized and pulling the covers over his head. 

"Cupboard, Harry likes to hide in cupboards!" Ron exclaimed, and Hermione then immediately spat out a spell that mapped the hallways surrounding them. The closest cupboard was on the fifth floor. Neville took Ron's hand and they sprinted, Hermione gasping to keep up. 

Troll sniffed. Sniff smelled human. Human maybe food? Troll walk to human smell. Human smell closer, closer... 

They were on the fourth floor when they heard the footfalls. 

Troll see three humans. Troll grab. Humans move farther, farther, farther... Troll hears human sound behind Troll. 

"Hey fishface, over here!" Neville yelled, having deliberately stopped walking while the Troll was focused on Ron and Hermione. 

Troll swung club. Club doesn't hit. Club float? Troll grab. Troll not grab human. Grab made Troll unbalanced, Troll falls over side of stairs. Troll hurts. Troll hurts, Troll smelled elves. Troll moved towards elves despite hurting. Troll ate a painting - tastes bad. Troll saw an elf. Troll grabs the elf. No falling this time. Troll eats elf. Elf meat tasty. Troll saw many humans in front of Troll, and a goblin smell. Troll sees nothing. Troll smells nothing. Troll hears nothing. Troll is no more.

After Neville diverted the troll's attention, Hermione cast a "WIngardium Leviosa" on the troll's club. The troll lunged for the club and lost balance. A large thump was felt throughout the castle. Ron was already running to the cupboard. He opened the door, and the familiar, dark-haired wizard laid on the other side, curled in fetal position. 

"Harry?" Neville asked. Ron didn't have time to think, he just sort of instinctually cast another Wingardium Leviosa. 

"Gryffindor Tower's that way. Thank you, Hermione, for what you did. You saved our butts, but we gotta take Harry to Hufflepuff before the professors notice we're missing. If you tickle the Fat Lady's dress, she'll be bound by oath not to inform the teachers when you showed up." 

Hermione ran to Gryffindor Tower, shocked. Neville and Ron took turns levitating Harry down the stairs. Only, when they reached the bottom, Harry woke up- 

To find the faces of his two best friends and the faces of the entire Hogwarts faculty staring at him. 


	12. Panicking

Harry looked about, somewhat panicked that he hadn't, after having a disgusting amount of flashbacks and stating some half-hearted prayers to his parents asking to join them, woken up in the cupboard he had sought refuge in. "Wh- what happened?" 

The Headmaster, unable to make himself angry regarding the clearly panicked levitating boy, shot a pointed look at the two standing Hufflepuffs before repeating the sentiment. "Yes, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom, what happened indeed? I believe we'd all like to know." 

Neville and Ron both gulped. Dumbledore rarely visibly expressed his anger, but the lack of twinkle in his eyes was concerning. Ron moved Harry down until he could stand on the floor. Then he began. 

"Well, er- Harry wasn't at the feast-" 

"And why," Snape interrupted, "was the Boy-Who-Lived not at the feast? I remember him not attending my class this morning as well." Snape stepped closer towards Harry, who was already attempting to hide himself behind Ron. Harry stepped backwards, wondered if he could escape while Ron and Neville explained whatever to the professors. They could explain to him later, when he wasn't faced with an irate Snape. Harry's heartbeat quickened as he remembered his earlier flashbacks -Uncle Vernon backhanding him, Aunt Petunia insulting him before shoving him against the dishwasher, Dudley and his gang, Piers pinning him down touching him touching him touching- 

"I know I was wrong and bad and it won't happen again I promise I won't skip class ever again please don't expel me please please don't make me leave-" 

"Don't think you can blab your way out of this, boy! I want an explanation, not excuses or empty promises!" Snape saw red. How dare he, act as though Snape had frightened him, as though Snape had any power whatsoever over a fucking Potter- 

Professor Sprout put a stop to the Potion Master's fear tactics. "Severus, enough! Can't you see he's panicking?" And indeed, Harry was. He continued trying to back away, thinking the more distance the less likely he'd get hurt, entirely forgetting the presence of magic or where he was, only knowing there was an angry adult demanding answers he couldn't give. 

Neville attempted to begin telling the story. "Harry hadn't know about the troll, and and well so I mean, the troll was in the dungeons and Ron had remembered Harry often hid in cupboards back home and well so we went the cupboard on the fifth floor but the troll wasn't in the dungeons and so someone Wingardium Leviosa'd its club and it fell over the banister and we found Harry in the cupboard and, well, here we are." 

As the adults began admonishing Neville and Ron for their disregard of authority and of their own safety, Ron attempted to comfort Harry, who'd backed into a table and then simply decided to hide under it. "Harry? Harry, do you know where you are?"Harry merely whimpered and attempted to move further away, despite Ron's gentle tone. Ron didn't know what to do. He waved his arm in front of Harry. No reaction. He moved closer and tried to give the boy a comforting hug - it was how his mum comforted him, maybe it'd calm Harry down? 

"Nonono don't touch me please no don't-" Harry tried to make himself as small as possible (there's no way to flinch from a bear hug) and Ron immediately backed off. Then Professor McGonagall, in her peripheral vision, noticed the two. 

"Why are you two sitting under the table? 

Ron crawled out from under, already embarrassed. Harry showed no signs of recognizing he'd been spoken to, and he had begun rocking himself back and forth. "your parents would be rolling in their graves-" Piers leer, the sharp pain when he ra- 

"Professor, it's Harry. I think he's having some kind of freak out or panic attack. He didn't respond to my talking to him or any visual attempts to get his attention, and he doesn't like being touched-" 

Flitwick responded by moving under the table with Harry. "Harry? Harry?" Again, no response. Harry was trying to focus on breathing, on pretending he doesn't exist and that he wasn't everything Piers said he was, trying to imagine his parents looking at him with any face other than complete and utter loathing - 

Flitwick had partially ignored the second part of Ron's sentence, and tried to carry Harry out from under the table. Harry instinctively kicked him, but, as Professor Flitwick lay on the floor of the Great Hall in pain, Harry was standing again. 

Madam Pomfrey ran over to attend to Flitwick. Harry stared at the sky. He must've been in the backyard when Piers came over for him, Harry thought. But then he looked around, and was shocked to discover he was in a room, not outside, with the majority of the faculty at Hogwarts still staring at him. He blinked. He must've been crying, because his eyes watered too easily to be natural. Harry then saw Neville and asked again: "What happened?" 

Professor McGonagall, no nonsense as she was, decided to explain. "You've been missing since after Defense Against the Dark Arts. Your friends apparently knew you enjoy hiding in cupboards?" Minerva still hadn't made any sense of that part, and, as she was not a Legilmens, required verbal explanation. 

Harry addressed Ron and Neville. "How- how'd you-?" 

"Back when Ernie and Justin were fighting - you said something about wishing you'd been back in your cupboard." 

"Yeah, what'd you mean by that, anyway?" Neville was exhausted and confused and Harry's preference for avoiding direct questions was not going to be tolerated just then. Harry was acting strange and panicking at random and even the anniversary of his parents' death couldn't make a normally well-adjusted person /that/ messed up. Neville knew when the anniversary of his parents' torture came up, he cried at the drop of a hat and was as grumpy as Harry had been at breakfast, but he never lost touch with reality the way Harry had. 

"I- er- I- my relatives- I- I slept in a cupboard as a child." Harry spoke so quietly that, if Madam Pomfrey hadn't already used House Elf apparation to bring Flitwick to the hospital wing (where Quirrel already lay) and the other adults hadn't quieted immediately when Neville asked the question, he wouldn't've been heard. Professor Sprout, always the sentimentalist, attempted to hug Harry, thinking he needed comfort and not learning the lesson from Flitwick. 

Harry bore the physical contact stoically, dissociating because he hadn't had enough energy to panic again after the morning and evening he'd had. He still found himself in another Piers flashback once the hug was over and Professor Dumbledore had also tried comforting him physically by touching his shoulder. 

"no not again i'm not going to do it, Piers!" Dumbledore let go at once, backing away and unsure of what to do. Harry could still feel him- or not Dumbledore, memory Piers- on top of him, trying to force Harry to try anal after Harry had already blowjob-ed him."No don't touch me don't I will tell them I don't care about your threats I'm not letting you fuck-" Harry couldn't speak as the psychosomatic pain from the memory ripped into him. 

"What should we do?" the professors asked among themselves, only without Minerva, who'd agreed to walk Ron and Neville back to Hufflepuff. 

"Severus, perhaps your talents-" 

"Albus, you know Legilmency on a child that young is illegal." 

"Perhaps," Professor Sprout suggested, worry for her student forcing desperate ideas into her mind. "Perhaps Veritaserum. That way we could determine whether or not he's delusional or merely suffering from PTSD." Psychotic people who are given Veritaserum immediately break out of their delusions. One reason why the Wizarding World doesn't have a functioning mental health system is due to that reason - psychosis cured, no other mental health problems really mattered. 

"Severus?" 

"I suppose. I'll go to my stores. Both of you owe me, though. Even my ethics aren't usually this muddied."


	13. veritaserum

Liquid poured down Harry's throat. Harry tried futilely to spit it out, but the result was merely the potion going down the wrong pipe, starting a coughing fit. 

Snape sighed and handed the vial of veritaserum to Dumbledore, who spelled it into the Hufflepuff's stomach. Snape had meant what he said earlier - even he was usually not this ethically dubious. 

The reason Legilmency on children was illegal was because Legilmency, as a form of mind magic, requires informed consent, and, given the developmental growth children have yet to do, children were deemed incapable of truly being informed of the repercussions their actions may cause. The reason veritaserum wasn't illegal to use on children was because the potion was a) rare and b) used as an alternative to the muggle concept of mandated reporters - no need for the aurors if one can force the truth out of the mouth, after all. The reason Snape disapproved of Legilmency on minors was not the same reason the Ministry did (Snape consented to being a death eater at fourteen after Lily ended their relationship. This fact actually proves the Ministry's point, but Snape still believes he knew what the repercussions of his actions would be - and to an extent, he did, at least considering the repercussions his actions would have on Muggles: immeasurable pain and then death - and believed he simply did not care if Lily lived or died at the time, not until six years later when he caused her death.) No, Snape believed children had a right to privacy. He knows he would never in his wildest dreams have consented to a professor, or anyone other than Lily, in all honestly, forcibly tearing the truth about his childhood out of him during a panic attack, regardless of how the truth was torn from him. But Dumbledore was his boss, and Snape did not believe Potter could possibly have anything as bad as he did to hide, so Snape allowed the event to occur. 

The reason Dumbledore and Professor Sprout had decided on veritaserum was because, unlike Legilmency, veritaserum forces the objective reality out of one's mind. With Legilmency, the truth shown is subjective. Therefore, if Harry's panic attack had been caused by psychosis, the adults would only be able to know what the experience Harry perceived was, not what the cause of the panicking in the first place was. With veritaserum, the potion creates an artificially induced calm that then utilizes the person's magic to force the true answer out of one's mouth. 

"Harry," Pomona began, "what caused the panic attack you just had?" 

"Snape walked towards me, looming over, and I wanted to see if I could leave the room unnoticed, but I was responding on autopilot-" 

"Auto-what?" asked Pomona, unfamiliar with Muggle culture. 

Dumbledore, the most educated on Muggle technology out of the three of them, answered. "Autopilot is when a Muggle airplane, which is like a more heavily protected metal version of a broom, is programmed to fly without the need for any conscious decision making. So he wasn't thinking about what he was saying. Anyway, Harry, continue telling us what caused you to panic, please." 

"But Snape only angered more and I was scared he'd hurt me so I backed away, and then Ron touched me and I don't like being touched so that made me panic more and then Professors started touching me but I didn't experience it was them. I didn't know it was them I thought-" Harry still wanted to hide the truth from the adults, but the potion made that impossible, so he worded the rest of his answer as vaguely as the magic would allow. "I thought I was in the past." 

"Why, Potter, did you think I would hurt you? Or any other student, for that matter?" Snape's moral doubts were pushed aside by an innate need to know if he had become someone he never wanted to be (if he had become his father or James Potter or Sirius Black, if he evoked fear for the fun of it, if he was abhorrent). 

"Whenever my uncle or aunt looked at me like that I'd get hit, and you already hate everything about me other than looking at my eyes so I figured you- I deserved punishment for being suicidal and sinful and bad at potions -" 

The three professors gasped at the revelation. Dumbledore recovered first. "What do you mean by suicidal, Harry?" 

"In the cupboard, I prayed to join my parents. They had died on Halloween, so I thought maybe I would be more likely to- they love me, or at least loved me as a baby, and here the only people who love me are Ron and Neville, I think, and maybe Professor Sprout or Professor McGonagall, but McGonagall might just be pretending to get something from me - I don't know, I know killing is wrong and I'd never actually do it - except maybe I'd kill Piers or Voldemort, I guess - but anyway there was no reason for Snape to avoid hitting me, he clearly has anger issues and nobody willing to discipline him. I know that because I've owled you, Professor Dumbledore. I also owled the board of governors about his treatment of Neville and biases to Slytherin, but all I got back was a form letter saying they appreciate my concerns." 

The sudden change of topic bewildered the professors, and eventually Snape stood up. "I am not going to sit here and be insulted by an eleven year old. Albus, you have the potion. I am going to go check on my Slytherins. And, boy-" Snape glared at Potter again. "Detention, tonight, my office." Then the tall man stalked out of the Great Hall, robes billowing. 

"Harry, you do not need to attend that detention." Dumbledore assured the boy, who would have been terrified if not for the Headmaster surreptitiously spelling more potion into him. "Now, I'll admit I did not see how severe the problem was. Severus will no longer be the Potions Professor by tonight, of that I can assure you." Albus could not fire Severus, that would be losing his spy, but he could demote the angry thirty year old to being Filch's assistant. Aurora Sinstra could cover as Head of House. 

Pomona was still concerned about Harry's mental health. "Harry, have you ever tried to hurt or kill yourself?" 

"No." 

Dumbledore's mind caught on another thing Harry said. "Why do you think McGonagall is pretending to love you?" 

"She touches me. She might just want to touch me and is pretending to care in order to groom me or something in case she wants to do sexual things. I don't actually think she's like that but my mind fixates on the idea and I don't know how to stop thinking this way." 

Yet another piece of Harry's monologue stuck in the old man's mind. Harry would be willing to kill Voldemort! ... And someone else. "Who is Piers?" 

Harry, who had been showing outward signs of the repressed anxiety by swinging his legs, abruptly stilled. "Piers... Piers Polkiss is my cousin's best friend. He is a horrible person. He lives on Magnolia Crescent." Harry stated these other facts to avoid stating the largest one. 

Dumbledore pressed."Harry, why do you want to kill this boy?" 

"He r- He is a horrible person. He and Dudley like beating me up. He killed one of Ms. Figg's cats once by running over it with his remote control truck. He's awful and I hate him." 

"Why him, though? Why kill him but not Dudley?" Pomona asked this one.

"He- Dudley never touched me other than to beat me up. Dudley never stuck his hand down my pants. Dudley never made me touch him, or suck his prick. Dudley never ra- never forced me into sex. Dudley never - Piers told my aunt and uncle I had done magic in order to get me in trouble, after I refused to let him rape me a second time. I was locked in my cupboard for a month. I thought I'd die in there, and that was the exact fate I'd been trying to avoid by doing what Piers told me to in the first place. Piers stole everything from me - I can't even be hugged without thinking about it. I can't even- I had never been hugged before, y'know, and then the first time I was it was just another way to get him off, by having the freak helpless, by treating me like the worthless shemale he thought I was. I don't know why he called me that. I'm not a girl, I never was." Harry was crying, his emotions overtaking the magic of the potion. Dumbledore spelled yet more into the first year, needing context, needing knowledge, needing to know if this was what the Hat had alluded to. 

"Why did it start? Why would your relatives lock you in cupboard?" 

"I lived in a cupboard, before Hogwarts, among the pipes and spiders. I would've been punished if Piers had told them I had talked to the snake at the zoo on Dudley's birthday, they only brought me if I had promised not to do anything freakish and I was terrified. I would've taken the cupboard gladly if I had known what I was agreeing to though. Piers was relentless. I serviced him at least seven times including the two rapes. I- My relatives have always hated me. Dudley was trained to hate me though, so I hold him less culpable. My uncle hated magic because my aunt hated magic, and because my aunt hated magic she hated me. She made me do most of the household chores. Before Hogwarts, I could never once remember a time I'd been truly full." 

The veritaserum wore off a final time. Dumbledore felt sick with guilt after what he had learned. Pomona warned Harry before hugging him, and then the two walked to the hospital wing where Madam Pomfrey would begin treating Harry for any internal injuries he may have suffered. For the first time, Harry felt entirely unburdened. He went to the Hufflepuff Common Room happier than he had been since first coming to Hogwarts. Neville and Ron were thrilled to have a captive audience to retell their run-in with the troll to, and Harry fell asleep to the deep sound of his best friends laughing. All was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think this is where the story'll end, sorry! Originally I was going to have Harry be sent back to Privet Drive over the summer and continue being abused by Piers only to be rescued and taken to the Wizarding World, where he thought he'd be safe up until Professor Lockhart chose to try molesting him as well, setting up a plethora of trust issues for Remus to need to break through, but honestly, this fic lost steam and I feel it ends better here. Harry will be happy and healthy and the new Potions Professor will be kind and understanding, (perhaps a centaur?)  
> Voldemort will not rise again because the stone will have been eaten by Fluffy. Tom will get fed up with Quirrelmort, gain enough of the original Quirrel's soul to become corporeal, murder the other soul pieces, and then choose to become a prostitute to satisfy his sex addiction. Harry will not need to kill him, and will spend his summers with the Weasleys, even after Sirius is pardoned (because Sirius needs mental health treatment that will only be found in the Muggle world and also Sirius needs to get over his unhealthy crush on James in therapy before he could ever try to have a non-dysfunctional family with his godson)


End file.
